


The School of the Wolf

by Llama1412



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23535031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama1412/pseuds/Llama1412
Summary: Vesemir is old, the oldest Witcher alive. Witchers don’t retire, they get slow and they die. He knows he's slowing down, but all he has left in this world is the boys he trained, and the legacy of the School of the Wolf.
Relationships: Eskel & Vesemir (The Witcher), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Vesemir, Lambert & Vesemir (The Witcher)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 126





	The School of the Wolf

The first time Vesemir heard  _ Toss a Coin _ , it had already spread far and wide. In fact, he’d experienced the effects of the song before he encountered it himself.

His last contract had been unusually easy – not the monster part, that was the same as always, but the human contract part. Usually, negotiating a contract and getting paid was a hassle – folks unwilling to pay in advance as if you’d run out on a contract and all you wanted was some dinner, but you’d spent your last coin on potion ingredients to fight the damn monster; and once you completed the contract, you had to drag the stinking trophy into town just to make sure they didn’t get out of paying you completely. And even then, you may or may not receive a fair price.

It was something he knew they all dreaded each time they sought a contract. But this last time had been unusually easy. The village alderman had easily offered half price upfront  _ and _ recommended lodging at the inn (you never knew if they’d be willing to serve you or not; if the village would drive you out to camp in the woods until the contract was complete). The innkeeper had freely mentioned that the town apothecary would probably buy loot from the beast, if he needed,  _ and _ he was pretty sure the food he received was higher quality than his usual fare. And when the contract was completed, not only did they offer him a slight bonus for bringing the second griffin head (they hadn’t known there were 2), but they invited him to join them for drinks in the tavern???

It was decidedly strange. But who was he to turn down alcohol? He kept his guard up, of course, ready for a trap. But the ale was good, and a young lady was strumming a lute in the corner.

It took him a moment to process the lyrics. It was...unexpected, to say the least. First, that Geralt had apparently found himself a barker, but also that this song seemed to indicate a shift in how people thought of witchers?

It was strange, but one pleasant night could simply be an outlier. Except it kept happening. Not all the same, of course, but he found he was no longer dreading interacting with humans to get paid. They tended to make less of a fuss these days – even willingly chatting with him when he approached! And the prices for contracts these days tended to be higher than before that song had spread across the continent.

Vesemir wasn’t sure what game this bard that had attached himself to Geralt was playing, but he found himself grateful for it. He could feel himself slowing down, these days. He was the oldest witcher alive, and witchers don’t retire. He knew his years left were numbered, and his old bones appreciated the sudden kindness after years of rough treatment.

The next time he saw the White Wolf of legend, they were wintering in Kaer Morhen. In all honesty, this was Vesemir’s favorite time of the year. Oh, he hated the cold, hated the way his old joints grew stiff in the mornings. But winter was a season where he didn’t have to be concerned with human interaction beyond the occasional trade with the nearest human outpost. Once the snows closed the mountain pass, he could settle down in this haunting ruin of a fortress and spend time with those remaining of the boys he had helped raise.

He was growing soft in his old age. But he was the only surviving instructor from the School of the Wolf. Their mutagens, their trials, their customs would be lost in the coming century. Far too few surviving boys were all that was left of the School’s legacy. Of his legacy.

It was a humbling thought. But he found he truly enjoyed the time he was able to spend each winter with the boys that returned. They weren’t his children, but they were family in a sense. He had been there as they grew up, as they changed, as they lived or died. He knew them in a way no other could. And he knew they took comfort in that too – he wasn’t their father, but his remaining boys still looked to him as a guardian, as an authority figure. He couldn’t let them down.

Eskel and Lambert teased Geralt mercilessly about his new reputation, of course. But even they said that they had been treated better this past year than ever before. Which still didn’t mean they were treated  _ well _ , but it was the difference between sleeping in the wilderness in the pouring rain versus being offered shelter in the stables or the inn.

Geralt said very little about the bard, but Vesemir noticed that when the other boys teasingly called him “White Wolf”, he actually almost smiled! It was nice to see – Geralt’s smiles were increasingly rare since his childhood, but he seemed slightly freer with them here, with his family.

Vesemir decided to encourage that. He took to calling Geralt  _ white wolf _ , or sometimes just  _ wolf _ . And if that evolved into him addressing the other boys as  _ wolf _ as well – at least Eskel appreciated it. He had always been freer with his expressions, and his dazed smile the first time Vesemir called him  _ wolf _ had improved his whole week.

Lambert was less obvious, always quick to cover any emotion with scorn. But Vesemir saw the way he froze in surprise, before quickly escaping the room. He worried at first that he’d overstepped, but the next time he tried a hesitant  _ wolf _ , Lambert nodded at him. So he continued to do it.

It was nice, expressing affection this way. It was nice to remind his boys that they were more than whatever slur they’d been greeted with most recently. And as time continued, and songs about Geralt grew more and more common, the time between encountering slurs grew longer and longer. It wasn’t perfect – Vesemir would still never choose to live amongst humans – but life became easier.

And then Geralt brought his child surprise to Kaer Morhen. That winter, they offered shelter to more guests than Vesemir would have ever expected. It set the precedent for the years to come.

At first, it was just the winters. True, with young Ciri to train, they all lingered in Kaer Morhen longer than strictly necessary. But eventually, the Path called to them again, and Ciri needed practical experience, after all. So the fortress would empty again throughout the spring, and then be repopulated in the winter.

But children needed stability. And while practical experience was necessary, 3 seasons out of the year turned out to be a lot. Moreso for her guardians than for the girl herself, who took to the wilderness with a fierceness that surprised them all. But maintaining her training while keeping Ciri safe  _ and _ keeping her out of trouble turned out to be quite draining for Geralt, who had clearly not been prepared for fatherhood  _ at all _ .

So, gradually, they fell into new patterns. Kaer Morhen was occupied more of the year than not – whether by Ciri and his boys or by an old friend from the School of the Griffin or by the occasional sorceresses who found themselves suddenly allied with the Witcher School.

And with the fortress occupied so often, it simply made sense for Vesemir to stay there year round. And if that meant his contracts rarely strayed beyond the Blue Mountains now, and his old bones were more content than ever, well, perhaps Witchers could retire after all. And he did so enjoy teaching. If he had ever had a choice in how to spend his final years, he thinks he probably would have chosen this: a sedentary life passing his knowledge onto the next generation: allies and children who would always be separate from the School of the Wolf in some ways, but who could see the best parts of their legacy live on.


End file.
